Backfire
by Mad-Friend
Summary: The work of an English Butler is seldom done but when it is, one in particular has found an indulgent way he'd like to spend his leisure time. If only it was that simple. COMPLETE


I see Thunderbirds has had a change of ownership, Granada now has that privilege. I Guess I have to acknowledge that right?

It's been a while and I got a little rusty and figured that was it in the story department when out of nowhere along came my muse, wending her way back from her travels, kicks me on the backside just as I was coming round from a nice warm sleep and says, "Get your idle little backside out of bed and get this written down." You can't argue with her once she gets started, or stop her. So here it is, the finished article that has been gathering dust on the back boiler for about a year.

I'd like to extend a sincere and generous acknowledgment to my Beta reader Yvette, for her inspirational little touches and unstinting advise. It is much appreciated. Thankyou my dearest Yvette.

BACKFIRE.

The work of an English Butler is seldom done but when it is, one in particular has found an indulgent way he'd like to spend his leisure time. If only it was that simple.

COMPLETE

If there was one thing Parker liked above all else, it was to partake in a spot of slothful indulgence and this morning he had the ultimate in horizontal indolence planned. The Tracy Island pool area was an enticement he could no longer resist. So, having ensured that her ladyship was safely occupied, he hurriedly changed out of his bespoke butler's cashmere light wool suit and into a colourful beach outfit that matched his personality. Satisfied with the results and sporting a pleased smile, he dashed outside. His chagrin was considerable on noting _all_ the loungers were now occupied.

'_Huh! Should 'ave blinkin' well come down at the crack of dawn an' nabbed one of those with me towel.' _"Now what ham ay goin' to do?"

It was then the image of a rope hammock flashed tantalisingly in his mind. He'd seen it during one of his "excursions". But where? A shuffle through his mental filing cabinet brought a swift smile to Parker's face. The store room. It wasn't long before he had located it, and with great precision and much struggling, erected it between two suitable palms, among the many dotted along the front of the house. The image of it swinging hypnotically in the breeze spurred him on. Parker could barely contain himself, but no spot of sunbathing would be complete without a few home 'comforts' so, hurrying indoors, Parker dashed through the various rooms, brazenly equipping himself with every creature comfort to hand (which on Tracy Island, were considerable). Finally satisfied and now armed with suntan oil, sunglasses, a wide brimmed panama, a large fluffy pillow, radio, a king sized hamper, several ice cold beers and last but not least, a girlie magazine hidden within the folds of his vintage car magazine, Parker staggered enthusiastically down the steps. From the corner of his eye he noted the party starting to move indoors. '_Typical! Hey wish some people would make hup their minds!'_

Parker now had a choice, one of the poolside loungers or the classical Pawley's island 100 cotton rope hammock he'd gone to such lengths to erect. He'd never tested the delights of a hammock and it _was_ beckoning provocatively. "No contest," he declared divesting himself off his sporty Hawaiian shirt. He then liberally splashed his broad chest with oil, and was about to swing onto the hammock when….

"Hi there, Parker."

He froze and warily turned round. "Mr. Scott, 'ow may ay help you?" he asked holding his breath.

"Er, sorry old boy, but Lady Penelope is asking for you."

'_Again?' _Groaning inwardly he replied, "You wouldn't happen to know what 'er ladyship requires this time?"

"Fraid not." Scott shrugged apologetically. "She just said to fetch you."

'_Well haint that just may luck? First chance hay gets an' 'er ladyship scuppers it.' _With a sinking heart, Parker picked up his shirt. "Very well, sir."

"It's probably nothing," Scott said consolingly. "Look on the bright side you'll probably be back out here before you know it."

_'Aye an' pigs meight fly. Oh well…….' _With a dejected air, Parker slipped into his shirt and turned towards the impressive building that dominated the skyline.

Scott watched him for a moment then glanced at the hammock. He quickly favoured it with a second glance. It _did_ look inviting, and Parker _had_ been considerate enough to provide a few home comforts……. _'Heck why_ _not_.' "Sure would be a pity to let all of Parker's efforts go to waste."

Determined not to miss the opportunity, Scott kicked off his shoes then, picking up the vintage car magazine, grabbed a beer and with one fluid movement, eased his long athletic length onto the hammock. Opening the magazine, he took a long swig of the beer and almost choked as his eyes clocked the body work of the bikini clad female secreted within in the inner sectors of the second magazine.

"Parker, you old devil," he said with a grin, hastily brushing the beer spray from the pages as he avidly scanned the contents. Reaching over, he began to make free with the contents of the hamper and soon lightened its load considerably. It was clear to anyone watching that Scott intended to settle down for a long stay.

Watching from his hiding place, a cluster of volcanic boulders along the terrace, Gordon's smirk evaporated and his heart sank. "Damn!_" _Gordon,who had put Parker's absence to good use, glanced at his watch and gulped. He had less than five minutes to get his brother _off_ that hammock before the compound he'd sprayed on it started reacting with Scott's body heat and set, literally, like glue._ 'You idiot, get out of there.'_ But Scott was no mind reader. Realising there was nothing else for it, Gordon ambled over, his mind racing, '_think Gordon think!' _With an air of sublime nonchalance he dropped in a casual, "Hi, Scott. _Whoa_! Take it easy!" he said, raising his hands in a gesture of supplication. "I'm not _that_ bad, you know. What's up?"

"Nothing!" Scott hastily replied, swiftly slamming the magazine shut and retaining a tight hold on it. "What brings you out here, swim?" he asked hopefully.

"Er; no, well not exactly. The thing is, I er……"

"Gordon? _Gordon_, come in here now."

Both heads squinted up at the balcony.

"What is it Grandma?" he asked.

"I can see you loafing about down there. If you've got time to do that, you can come in here and mend this darned fuse that keeps blowing."

"_Damn_! Great timing," he mumbled.

"You say something?" Scott asked.

"Nah," Gordon replied, kicking at an imaginary pebble on the ground.

"Best not keep her waiting then; you know how she hates that."

"You could always go."

"She _asked_ for you."

"I'll do your chores for a week if you go." '_Jeeze I can't believe I just said that,' _thought an increasingly desperate Gordon.

"Hey what is this?" Scott surveyed him shrewdly as he chewed over his brother's offer. Gordon was up to something. Sensing danger, Scott had no hesitation in declining. Gordon waited tensely, willing his brother to move. He'd deal with the issue of the chores later.

"Tempting, but no thanks. I think I'll stay right here." Scott waited tensely, willing his brother to move. "I wouldn't keep her waiting, not if you know what's good for you." He breathed a sigh of relief as his brother finally, if somewhat reluctantly, moved off. Convinced he'd had a lucky escape, Scott returned to the magazine and the assortment of treats Parker had so thoughtfully provided. He never felt a thing as the odourless compound began to break down and fix him to the hammock. The sun, heat, beer and food had lulled him to sleep.

"Anyone seen Scott?" Jeff asked as he led the way into the dining room.

"Er, yeah, Dad. He was out on the terrace last time I saw him," Alan supplied.

"Call him would you, tell him lunch is on the table."

"Sure Dad."

Scott moved sleepily as the lighter tones of his youngest brother reached him from the lounge balcony. '_Something is wrong_,' filtered through the haze of sleep. It took him a minute to realise what it was. His eyes snapped open and he frowned as he tried to move.

"What the blazes?" Scott growled on realising he was stuck firm. Twisting, he tried and failed to sit up. Now fully alert to his situation, Scott struggled with a grim determination, but no matter which way he twisted he couldn't peel himself from the hammock; his arms, legs and torso were stuck fast. Breathing deeply, he concluded the only way out was to flip himself over so he was facing the ground, and use his feet to lever himself into an upright position where he could unclip the hammock from one end of the palm, then manoeuvre himself to do the same with the other end. The theory was easier than the reality, but finally he twisted, strained and heaved himself into a standing position, his clothes tearing with the strain. He growled in frustration wondering why no one had come to his aid. His thoughts flitting between that and how he'd come to be in this position in the first place. One word came to mind, _Gordon_. This had his prints all over it.

"Gordon, I hope you know a secret corner on this island, because you're going to need it!" But first he had to get free. Using all his ingenuity and stamina, Scott proceeded to do just that.

Scott finally staggered, hot and sweating, into the dining room. His presence brought an instant cessation to the conversation around the table. Their shock lasted for several seconds as each surveyed him, absorbing in minute detail every inch of his appearance from head to foot. An indiscreet snigger broke the silence, another quickly followed. The room was on the point of erupting into peals of laughter, but the ominous look on Scott's face had the effect of quelling them instantly.

"I see you haven't lost the element of surprise, then," Virgil said dryly, observing the remnants of Scott's shirt, now hanging in tatters through the hammock, which embraced him tenaciously before trailing off along the floor.

"What're you planning for an encore?" Alan chipped in.

Scott threw them a filthy look but out of deference to their guest restrained himself.

Jeff lowered his knife and fork and looked from one to the other of his sons, instantly summing up the situation. He arose, ready to intercede, as across the table Scott's eyes locked onto Gordon's watchful ones.

"It wasn't meant for you."

"That won't score you any points!"

"You can hardly blame me that you couldn't contain your greed."

"No, I'll just blame you for the DNZU-50 compound you used!"

"Why didn't you take the hint?"

"Because maybe you should have dropped a _bigger_ one!"

"How big a hint did you want? I offered to do your chores for a week."

"_Jeeze_, he offered you _that _and you _still _didn't get it?" Virgil said incredulously.

"I thought I was being set up," Scott defended.

And that's when the penny dropped with Parker, along with his jaw and the cheesecake he was carrying. Grandma stood too then, and tutted. "Looks like it'll have to be the old standby…….rice pudding," she said with a knowing look at Gordon, who shuddered.

"But I hate rice pudding……"

"Just as well then," Scott cut in.

"Brace yourself," Virgil murmured as Scott moved in Gordon's direction. But Scott was still impeded by the hammock's vice like grip on his pants and Gordon wasn't just an athlete; he was also shrewd and had calculated just how long it would take his irate brother to reach him. This gave Gordon several seconds and he used them wisely, stopping long enough to load several more mouthfuls before finally putting his athletic prowess to good use. Scott was left standing, as his brother exited before he'd managed more than two steps.

"Damn!"

"Here, son. Let me help you." Jeff moved round the table and began pulling and tugging at the hammock. "You know, they don't make things like this anymore," Jeff said admiring the hammock, "Look at the attention to detail in this, these things were crafted to last." Scott stared hard at his parent, but Jeff's face remained deadpan as he continued working dexterously to free his son. The sound of tearing material rent the air. "Doesn't look like your shirt can be salvaged, son," Jeff said dryly as a large remnant came away in his hand. "Still, at least your arms are freed now."

Scott's nostril's flared, but ever mindful of their guest, his retort remained unspoken as he automatically accepted the proffered piece. Glancing from his son's pants to the head of the table, Jeff added, "I think that's as far as I should go in here, but if you want me to……"

"Thanks, Dad, you've done _more_ than enough." Scott flicked humiliated blue eyes in the direction of Lady Penelope, who with her impeccable breeding appeared impervious, not batting an eye as she delicately put her cutlery to good use, though he was certain he heard her say as he made his way skilfully up the corridor to his room, "That was wonderful, I can't recall when I enjoyed a meal more."

POSTSCRIPT:

Still smarting from his humiliating ordeal, Scott refused to turn round on hearing footsteps behind him.

"A' hem, Mr. Scott."

Scott slowed to a halt, turned and waited. Neither man spoke for a minute.

'_If he says one thing…..'_

_'Aloysius me ol' son you 'ad a lucky escape there.'_ Parker's grey blue eyes travelled slowly upward into blue challenging ones. He coughed and was the first to look away. "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but meight ay hask what you did with may magazine?"

"The _vintage_ car one?"

Parker flushed slightly and looked down, "Er, yes, sir. Quite. That one."

"It's in the hamper."

"The 'amper sir?"

"Yeah, the '_amper_.' Wouldn't want it getting in the wrong hands eh?" Scott winked conspiratorially.

"Quite sir." Parker flushed.

Meanwhile:

"Why don't those boys learn to put things away after they've used them?" Mrs. Tracy tutted to herself as she carried the half empty hamper indoors and deposited it in the kitchen. "As if I don't have enough do. Good job I spotted this before the contents started to go bad. Now what do we have in here?" she said, lifting the lid……….

THE END.


End file.
